The World at Her Fingertips
by Wndrwoman
Summary: At twenty two Hermione is less than happy. She examines her past and learns to move forward. Romance and adventure to come.
1. She Hadn't Shared With Anyone

Author's note: Ok so I'll admit it. I'm a really new Harry Potter fan and I've only read the first three books. I'm waiting to get the fourth one from the library cause I'm poor so if I got anything hugely wrong let me know.

Chapter one: She Hadn't Shared With Anyone  
  
Hermione stood looking glumly into the floor length mirror that adorned the north wall of her bedroom for what she assumed to be the 400th time that day. Her wavy dishwater blond hair moved slightly as a breeze from the open window moved across her room.   
  
"Haven't you got anythin' better to do than stand there and make faces?" the mirror scolded indignantly.  
  
Hermione sighed. She knew that she was what most people considered pretty, but at twenty-two she couldn't feel any less attractive. She felt old, used up and out of shape. Even her magic was starting to suffer; there just wasn't any pleasure in it anymore.   
  
"I might as well be a muggle," she mused softly as she stroked a sleeping Crookshanks.  
  
The sleeping cat rolled over and one eye opened lazily, as if to ask if there was a reason his mistress was disturbing his afternoon nap.  
  
Leaving the cat to get back to sleeping, Hermione flung herself down onto the recliner in the spare bedroom. After getting comfortable, she realized the remote control was lying across the room. Witches and wizards generally disapprove of keeping electronic muggle devices in their homes, but since Hermione had been living alone, she liked the company and familiarity of the childhood pastime.   
  
She pulled out her wand from the pocket of her nightgown and addressed the remote, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" and drew it towards her.   
  
As with any magic she'd been doing lately these words brought back memories of Hogwarts.   
  
&&&&&&&&  
  
"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.  
  
"You're saying it wrong," Hermione snapped. "It's Win_-gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."  
  
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.  
  
Hermione roled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"  
  
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.  
  
&&&&&&&  
  
How she wished things were as they had been back then, when she had had something to dedicate herself to. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"No, not now," she thought miserably, "I wasn't going to cry today."  
  
She got up from the couch and made herself busy doing some cleaning the old fashioned muggle way. After doing the dishes, dusting, sweeping and mopping she decided to get dressed and go out for awhile, thinking that doing something, anything, would help alleviate her depression. She knew people were worried about her and she never really was too good at being on either end of pity.   
  
By the time she had cleaned herself and put on a pair of worn Diesel jeans, a large brown pullover sweater with two bright orange flowers knitted right below the left shoulder and her favorite Clark walking shoes (she had always been a sucker for muggle fashion, something Oliver had abhorred) it was nearly 6 o'clock.   
  
"Better late than never," she thought to herself before stepping off her doorstep.  
  
Mrs. Backwater, Hermione's nearest neighbor, who was out instructing her youngest grandson how to properly rid a garden of gnomes, was quite plainly surprised to see her young neighbor out and about.  
  
"Hello dear!" Mrs. Backwater called cheerfully while flinging an especially fat gnome into the empty lot on the opposite side of her house.  
  
"Good evening!" Hermione returned plastering a fake smile across her face.  
  
Hermione spent most of her evening catching up with various neighbors who were out and about that evening. She was happy to find that most of them seemed to have missed her, but made no mention of her recent absence from contact with the outside world. Wizards tend to have more sense about these things than other people. Something Hermione discovered the following week when she attended a baby shower for her second cousin Hester.  
  
"Well I always did think it was quite unnatural for a pretty girl like you to turn and marry one of those strange ones. I think it's quite good that you can be done with the whole lot of them now, even though it was unfortunate for what's his name," her aunt Ionia said as though she was commenting on the weather.  
  
"I'm still a witch Auntie," Hermione reminded the woman.  
  
"Oh, well..." her aunt looked uncomfortable at the mention of the word 'witch' and started commenting offhand about whatever darling thing had been unwrapped by the mother-to-be.  
  
When the party was nearly over and she was helping her mother clean up the kitchen Hermione hoped the worst was finished. Hester came into the room with an armful of presents.  
  
"You shouldn't be carrying all that Hester!" a friend of the family scolded, "And to think Hermione just a few months ago this party could have been for you," she added and bustled out of the room.   
  
Both Hermione and Hester looked uncomfortably at anything except the other's face.   
  
In a last ditch attempt to say something comforting the dull witted Hester spoke, "At least you still have your figure," motioning to her own gorged belly and letting out a forced chuckle.   
  
Even her mother seemed at a loss when she tried to console her. Hermione didn't understand why it made any difference that she was a witch, she had suffered a great deal and wanted her friends and family to support her. She knew they meant well, but muggles never really could be completely comfortable with the idea of some people having more abilities than they did.   
  
"I know it's hard. And I can't say that I've ever experienced anything like what you've been through, but you have to keep on going. It will get easier every day," her mother assured her.  
  
But Hermione wasn't so sure that it would, because what bothered her the most about what had happened she hadn't shared with anyone.


	2. Without Being Rude

Chapter 2: Without Being Rude  
  
_The ceremony had been beautiful, just as it was every year. She had walked nervously across the stage when the Sorting Hat had called her name as it had done on her very first night at Hogwarts to receive her witch's licence. She was now an official witch.  
  
After being hugged and congratulated for the millionth time that day she escaped to the refreshments table, hoping to give her smile a rest. Someone had walked up and bumped into her, as if on accident.  
  
"Well! Hermione Granger! Fancy meeting you here, how have you been after all these years," The handsome man who had bumped into her spoke.  
  
"Hello Oliver! You're certainly taller than the last time I saw you," she laughed as she hugged him.   
  
"Well you know, all that Quidditch practice," he joked.  
  
"Right! Congratulations with all of that. I saw your picture in the Daily Prophet last week."  
  
"Thanks! That's actually why I'm here."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah I was hoping to get a word with Harry. I know every team in the country has tried to draft him and he says he isn't interested, but I was hoping I could fall back on our Gryffindor history."  
  
"I don't think he wants to play professionally, but you can give it a shot. Here he comes now," Hermione said and pointed behind Wood.  
_  
Hermione woke with a start and immediately buried her head back into the pillow of her childhood bed, before realizing what had awakened her. The dream she had was not the first of its kind, but she wasn't left to dwell on it because she heard a persistent tapping at the window across the room. She looked up to see an aggravated gray owl.   
  
She sprang from her bed and opened the window. The owl flapped into the room, landed on the desk next to it and dropped a small letter and a puddle of water. As Hermione bent to pick up the letter, the owl began scolding her for leaving it out in the rain so long. She did not recognize the young owl.  
  
_Hermione,  
  
Hello! It's been such a long time since I saw you last. I hope you are doing well in spite of everything. I wanted to write to you sooner, but everyone told me to wait until you had had some time to yourself. My brothers and I are planning to have a small get together of our old mates from Hogwarts on the 21st. I would love it if you would come and visit me, even if you don't want to see everyone yet. Send Ermine a response and I'll get you the details. I've missed you.  
  
Love,   
  
Ginny  
_  
Hermione quickly scrawled a response and laughed to herself; Ginny hadn't changed a bit, always so straightforward, but kind too. She said she would love to come and gave the letter to Ermine. Perhaps this would be the help she needed to get out of her funk. It had been nearly three years since she had seen any of her friends from Hogwarts.   
  
She got dressed and went down to help her mother with breakfast. They were getting along just fine until Hermione began to prepare breakfast in her usual fashion while her mother set the table.   
  
"Do you have to do things like that here?" Her mother snapped.  
  
"Like what?" Hermione asked, feeling attacked as she looked behind her at the eggs beating themselves and the spatula simultaneously flipping pancakes on the griddle, "Sorry," she spat as the tools lay themselves back onto the counter and she picked up the egg beater.   
  
Hermione stood still for a moment before turning on her mother, "Actually, you know what mom, I'm not. I'm not sorry at all. In fact I think you should be sorry. You used to be proud of me!"  
  
Her mother stood shocked at her daughter's outburst.  
  
"But what's changed exactly? Ever since... Ever since..." but she couldn't bring herself to say the words and her mother rushed to her and pulled her daughter into her arms.   
  
"I am sorry honey. For everything. I guess that the reason I liked you being a witch was that it made you happy. And ever since Oliver's accident you haven't been happy..."  
  
"My husband died! Of course I'm not happy,"  
  
"I know that, but for your father and our family it's too hard to hear. And so we make up excuses for why you aren't happy,"  
  
"Being a witch is the only thing that saved me! Without it, I wouldn't have a reason to live."  
  
"Don't say that! You have every reason to live; you've had the world at your fingertips since you were in nursery school Hermione."  
  
"Fine, but don't blame magic for Oliver's death."  
  
Hermione ate breakfast in silence and left as soon as she could without being rude.


	3. Full House

Chapter 3: Full house  
  
By the time Hermione returned home there was an owl perched on both of the urns that sat on either side of her front doorstep. They watched her carefully as she stepped inside and followed closely behind.   
  
"Hello Hedwig, Ermine," She greeted them as she sat her overnight bag on the table in the foyer.   
  
The house was really quite grand, but you never would have guessed by the outside. It was spelled to look small and worn, although very neat. The paint was fresh but the roof over the porch sagged slightly in the middle. It was an olive green with pale blue shutters. Twin cherry wood doors were spaced equally apart on the front of the house. They were covered with cast iron storm doors in which the glass panes were covered in intricate patterns of twisted cast iron. Not at all the house you would expect the captain of the Bombers national quidditch team and his wife to inhabit.   
  
The simple exterior was no preparation for the grand interior. The Foyer was a complete circle with marble floors on which the emblem of the Bombers was engraved on top of the National Quidditch Cup. A spiral staircase hugged the walls leading up to the second, third and fourth floors. Doors easily twelve feet high lead into various rooms from the entrance.   
  
But Hermione, was too preoccupied to appreciate the architecture. She opened Ermine's note first.  
  
_Hermione,  
  
I'm so glad you've decided to come! Feel free to come as soon as you like. I live at 23 Westchester Lane in Hogsmeade now. Everyone will be very delighted to see you.  
  
Love,  
  
Ginny  
_  
She then went to Hedwig's letter.  
  
_Hermione,  
  
Ron tells me that you'll be joining us next week, I'm very glad. I realize that we haven't been on the best of terms these last years and I hope that we can put everything behind us. I wish that I had the opportunity to do the same with Oliver. I'm very sorry for your loss and I'm sorry I didn't send word before now. I'm looking forward to seeing you and hope that you can find it in your heart to move on and let bygones be bygones.  
  
Harry  
_  
Harry was always so dramatic about things, Hermione thought. It wasn't as if they had had some big falling out, just went separate ways. Alright, so it was a little more complex, but nothing that Harry had specifically done that he needed to be apologetic about.  
  
Hermione had planned to wait another day or so before visiting Ginny so that she did not wear her welcome out, but after sitting and watching Crookshanks torment and consume a mole out the kitchen window for 45 minutes she decided she couldn't stand to be alone any more. She was afraid to do anything because it would remind her of something she didn't want to remember.   
  
Hermione ran down the basement steps to go and fetch some things from the laundry room she planned to take with her, but stopped suddenly.  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
_Oliver lead her down the steps holding her hand, "...and look how much space there is in the basement!"  
  
To their left there was a large gray space which held a water heater and several very large cobwebs.  
  
"We can change this into a study for you and you can work on all that stuff you like, and there's a laundry room over there."  
  
She smiled at him and elbowed him in the ribs. He caught her arm and pulled her close to him._   
  
&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes, not because she missed him, but because of the broken promises and how selfish she was being about them.  
  
"So what if I didn't get a study! So what if all he ever worried about was quidditch and was gone half the time. So what if he was jealous of my friends and wanted me to himself. He loved me! I thought when people died you were supposed to only remember the good times, what happened to that? Then at least I wouldn't be beating myself up over everything," Hermione thought as she slumped against the wall and sat down on the bottom step.  
  
"That's it, I have to get out of here. I have to talk to someone who understands remotely what I've been through. This house is so full of the past that there isn't any room left for me." 


End file.
